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could go after his wife at any time enraged him. Brock tried fight-
ing his bonds only he exhausted his already weakened body.
Looking around, he found he d been imprisoned in a base-
ment meaning they had driven a good distance before they got to
land where a house could be built with a belowground level. The
chill he felt seemed like it came naturally instead of mechanically.
Where the hell am I?
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Hearing footsteps, he closed his eyes hoping his captors would
believe he d yet to regain consciousness. Brock hoped they might
say something anything to give him a clue about what they had
planned for him.
If he doesn t come out of it soon, bring him around. The boss
wants him coherent.
Brock inwardly groaned. He waited a few moments before he
looked around again to see if he could find any possible way to es-
cape. Seeing several windows he figured sat at ground level, he
knew he d never get his muscular body through the small spaces
his captor having thought of everything it seemed.
The door opened, Brock not moving.
Come on, Judge, wake up, a voice said moments before a
steel-toed boot caught Brock in the side. An involuntary groan
emanated from low in his stomach, Brock trying to ignore the pain.
Another kick and his stomach felt like it sat in his throat. Stop it, as-
shole!
Another man yanked him up, forcing him to sit. The sudden
movement made him sicker while his head spun, Brock unsure
whether the headache came from the aftereffects of the sedatives,
taking some hits in the head or the piece of metal shifting. Why
didn t I have it taken care of before?
The first man backhanded him, the sting from the slap putting
his body on alert.
Wake up, Judge, or I ll beat the crap out of you again.
Both men laughed while Brock felt sicker.
Footsteps on the stairs caught everyone s attention. Both men
stood away from Brock while he fought to keep his balance. I don t
need this&
Well, Judge Sanders, how does it feel? Instead of you being
the judgmental factor, I am and I have decided on the verdict in this
case. I find you guilty and sentence you to death.
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Peterson ripped the tape from Brock s mouth, Brock feeling
his skin rip open. He glared at the retired admiral while tasting
blood and feeling a hatred he d never felt before.
I m interested to hear if you have a defense though it is too
late.
What the hell do you want from me?
Your death.
Why? Because I found you guilty at your Article 32 hearing?
You proved your guilt in that case against your JAG s instructions.
I wanted to throw you out of the Navy plus brig time and forfeiture
of pay. Your misconduct literally defined the term. The brass or-
dered me to publish the lighter punishment because somebody
wanted you promoted.
You re lying. I knew then as I know now, you had it in for
me. Why do you think I didn t want you hearing Renee s case?
I never even made the connection until I started hearing the
rumors and had my investigator check it out. If you d stayed away,
she probably would have been acquitted. Now, I plan to charge you
with obstruction of justice, contempt and anything else I can think
of, plus the kidnapping and murder charges you re facing.
You won t be alive to file them, Judge. I don t intend to al-
low you to live any longer. You ve been a thorn in my side for
years, Commander, and it s time to remove you.
Peterson nodded. One of his men pressed a new piece of tape
over Brock s mouth before the other one hit him again.
I hope you like the desert, Commander hot during the day,
freezing at night. By the time they find you, your wife or is she
your Dominatrix? won t even recognize you but, by then, we ll
have taken care of her, too. Two thorns both removed. Not a
bad day s work, wouldn t you say?
The mere reference to Dominique caused rage to boil over.
Finding a new burst of strength, Brock lunged at Peterson. The
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admiral sidestepped him, Brock falling on his stomach just shy of
hitting his head against a wall.
You re pathetic, Peterson said before he kicked Brock in the
side. He nodded, Dexter and Javier pulling Brock back to his
knees. I like your drive though it s a bit wasted right now, don t
you think?
Brock glared at his captor, his mind racing. The thought of
never seeing his wife his mistress and the constant in his life hit
him like an out-of-control freight train. Dominique, I am so sorry&
* * * *
Peterson s men dragged the beaten body of State Superior
Court Justice Brockton Sanders from the desert home of Retired
Admiral Ronald Peterson to a waiting helicopter. Shoving him on
the aircraft, they boarded behind him and the pilot took off. About
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